


Full Trust

by Wolf_dog



Series: Trust [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Bottom John, Childbirth, Dom Sherlock, Dominant Sherlock, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant John, Sub John, Top Sherlock, Werewolves, knots, submissive John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_dog/pseuds/Wolf_dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is in the same 'verse as the others in the Trust series, but not part of the actual 'verse. It is more like a spin-off. </p><p>John gets pregnant and is scared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Trust

It had been a year since Sherlock had nearly died and been transformed into a werewolf. They’d been having lots and lots of sex. John enjoyed it, of course, he loved being so close to Sherlock and so thoroughly connected. Sherlock had been disgruntled with his knot appearing every time, until he’d realised that he could wring multiple orgasms out of John and reduce him to a begging mess.

But, something was up with John. He wasn’t sure if he’d caught a bug, or what, but he felt ill. He’d been feeling down for a while. Roughly two weeks. Sherlock didn’t seem to have noticed. He’d gone out on a case this morning, leaving John alone in the flat.

John had lain in bed for a while, tried to eat something, thrown it back up, then, unable to stay in the flat a moment longer, went out for a walk.

The air helped clear his head and he didn’t feel quite so ill anymore. Sighing in relief, he placed a contemplative hand on his stomach and rubbed gently through his warm jumper (not that he really needed extra warmth, but it was comforting and kept out the bite of the wind). He walked along the less crowded streets of London and ended up at a quiet park. Sitting down, he flexed his toes and leant back against the hard bench and closed his eyes.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, he just knew that the sun was slowly disappearing beyond the horizon.

 _John?_ Sherlock’s worried voice entered his head, _Where are you?_

 _‘m at a park._ John responded lazily, not wanting to get up and move just yet.

There was a few beats of silence, and then:

_I smell vomit. Are you alright? What happened?_

_The food you left for me was horrible and made me throw up_ , John responded, wrinkling his nose.

Sherlock always made his meals, and if he knew he wasn’t going to be there, he left a meal for John in the fridge to ensure that John was eating properly.

He could sense Sherlock’s confusion. _There’s nothing wrong with the food I made you, John, I assure you. I just had a bit._

John frowned. _Well, it made me ill._

 _Are you sure it was the food, John? You didn’t eat or drink anything else?_ Sherlock questioned.

 _No, I didn’t. It was the food_ , John snapped, and then was surprised by his own flash of anger.

 _Come home, John. Now._ Sherlock ordered, voice sharp.

John whined aloud, then reluctantly stood and made his way back to the flat. As much as he wanted to whinge and disobey, he didn’t dare to. The fresh air was so lovely, and the flat was stuffy.

He reluctantly entered the flat, and even from the landing he could smell Sherlock’s worry and anger.  John didn’t want to face Sherlock after his angry outburst, and feared that he would be punished and forced to sleep at the end of the bed once more. John hated sleeping at the end of the bed – he’d become so used to sleeping by Sherlock’s side and tucked into Sherlock, that any other way of sleeping was insufficient.

John slunk into the living room, head ducked down and hands shoved into his pockets. Sherlock was waiting for him in the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest with one hand pinching the bridge of his nose and eyes closed, ankles crossed as he leant back against the counters. He didn’t look up as John entered, but his nostrils flared and John knew that Sherlock knew he was there.

“John,” Sherlock rumbled and John flinched slightly at the tone of frustration in his tone.

John’s gaze flicked up to Sherlock then down again, sulking, and his nose flared as he smelt pasta. Sherlock had obviously cooked dinner whilst John had been on his way back, and John, for once, wasn’t hungry. Although, that didn’t really surprise him as he never ate when he was upset. And John was currently upset that he’s potentially angered Sherlock.

There was a sigh from Sherlock, and John watched from the corner of his eye as Sherlock lowered his hand from his face and stared at John. “What was all that about earlier?” Sherlock asked, staring right at him, and John kept his gaze diverted.

“It made me sick,” John sulked, because that was the only logical explanation. He’d eaten the food, and then he’d thrown up.

“And I told you it was fine!” Sherlock snapped, obviously having been stewing over this for the entirety of the time in which it had taken John to make it home.

“Then why did I throw up?” John cried, distraught and hating it when Sherlock was mad at him.

“I don’t know, John,” Sherlock sighed, softening a little at John’s cry, and strode over to John, wrapping his arms around him and John buried his face into Sherlock’s neck gratefully, “Maybe you caught the flu or something like that.”

John made a soft noise that was neither agreement nor disagreement. He hated it when Sherlock was mad at him, and whilst he didn’t feel like he’d gotten sick, it was the only logical explanation. “But werewolves don’t get sick,” John mumbled into Sherlock’s neck, eyes closed.

Sherlock sighed. “I don’t know, John. We’ll just take it easy today and see if you feel better tomorrow, okay?” Sherlock asked, and John knew very well that Sherlock was only being this patient with him because John wasn’t feeling well.

Any other day, and this kind of back-talking would have had him punished for sure.

“Okay,” John whispered in agreement, not wanting to move just yet.

“I made your favourite pasta,” Sherlock cajoled gently after a few long moments, and pulled back slightly to stare down at John with a slight smile, though John could smell the worry coming from Sherlock still.

John looked behind Sherlock to the pasta, and he admitted honestly, “I’m not hungry.”

Sherlock sighed in frustration, frowning. “John, you have to eat. You threw up the food I made you for breakfast, and the lunch I made you is still in the fridge. You _have_ to eat, that’s an order,” Sherlock told him sternly, and John nodded his head reluctantly.

Sherlock pulled away and waved for him to sit down at the table, and John did so obediently, watching as Sherlock turned his back and served up a rather large serving of pasta, and a small serve. With an internal sigh, John assumed that the big serve was for him. John didn’t want it, though, but he would eat it to keep Sherlock happy.

As Sherlock put the food down in front of him, John inhaled deeply and was struck by the sudden urge to put salt in it. John blinked, wondering where that urge had come from, but he reached for the salt on the table anyway. Sherlock’s hand covered his, and John looked up to find Sherlock frowning slightly.

“You don’t need any more salt than what’s already in there,” Sherlock told him firmly, and John whined.

“But I want more!” John protested sulkily, and then fell silent as Sherlock’s grip on his hand tightened in warning, and he averted his gaze.

“No, John. Any more out of you and you’ll be sleeping at the end of the bed,” Sherlock warned, and John nodded his head to show he understood.

John stabbed his pasta and took a bite before grimacing in displeasure, which confused him. This was his favourite pasta, and yet he didn’t want it for some reason. John twirled his food around his fork and dangled it in the air for a few moments, before a growl from Sherlock sent him shoving the food into his mouth.

“John,” Sherlock sighed in frustration, and John peeked up at him, “After dinner, we will be spending our time as wolves until bath time. Understood?”

“Understood,” John agreed, perking up at the thought of being in his wolf form. John loved his wolf form.

By the time that John had finished half of his dinner, Sherlock had already finished his, and simply watched John eat the rest of his dinner. John felt uncomfortably full by the end, and he sat back in his chair for a moment before looking up at Sherlock eagerly.

Sherlock gave him a small smile, and stood, gesturing with his hand for John to follow him, which he eagerly did. They went into the living room, and John stayed in the middle whilst Sherlock went around the room and closed the curtains and locked all of the doors. John waited with rising anticipation, until Sherlock turned to him with a smile and started stripping. John eagerly followed suit, stripping down until he was completely naked, and then transforming into his wolf form.

John blinked in surprise as he found that his balance had changed slightly. Tottering in a circle, John stayed still as Sherlock approached. Sherlock circled him, sniffing, and when Sherlock paused by his rear, John turned and snapped at him in warning without conscious thought.

Sherlock pulled back in surprise, and John was horrified. _I didn’t mean to!_ John sent to Sherlock, and even his mental voice was trembling.

Sherlock gazed at him, eyes narrowing slightly before he relaxed and trotted over to John’s face and rubbed their muzzles together briefly. _It’s alright, John. I believe you._ Sherlock sent him and John sighed in relief, leaning into Sherlock’s much larger body.

 _I don’t know what happened. I just… I dunno, Sherlock. Everything’s just so weird with me today!_ John whimpered, lying down on his belly and curling up.

Sherlock lay down next to him and rested his head on the back of John’s neck. _It’s alright, John,_ Sherlock soothed, grooming him gently, _We’ll figure out what’s going on, I promise._

John closed his eyes and relaxed, focusing simply on Sherlock and not on all the weird things going on with his body.

*.*.*.

John was fine for the next two weeks, but on the fifth week since he’d begun feeling off, John discovered a shock. Sherlock had gone out once again, and John had padded naked into the bathroom to take a shower, but when he’d been going past the mirror, he glanced at it and then froze.

John hadn’t noticed during the past weeks, but looking in the mirror now, John’s gaze was focused on his belly and the firm, round bump. Running his hand down his belly, John could feel it now. He’d just assumed that he’d gained weight. But, this bump was too round and smooth for that. Something nudged against his hand, and John yelped and his hand flew away from his belly as if he’d been burnt.

Sherlock must have felt his fear through their mental link, as Sherlock’s panicked voice filtered through his head. _John? John what’s wrong? What’s happened? I’m on my way._

John panted in fear, his head whirling as he wondered what on earth what to tell Sherlock. _I’m fine. It’s nothing. You don’t need to come home. I just scared myself._ John lied, trying to control the rapid rises and falls of his chest.

 _Are you sure?_ Sherlock asked warily, and John gave a small smile even though Sherlock couldn’t see it.

 _Yes, I’m fine_ , John promised. Well, he would be fine once he calmed down and had a bit of time to wrap his head around this.

Then, he’d need to figure out how on earth he was going to tell Sherlock.

 _Okay, John. But don’t hesitate to let me know if you change your mind_ , Sherlock told him.

 _I will_ , John assured Sherlock, and tore his gaze away from the mirror and turned the shower on.

His head was still spinning in shock, but he did his best to push it down so that Sherlock wouldn’t feel it through the mental link. John didn’t want Sherlock to be even more suspicious than he already was. John was certain that as soon as Sherlock got home today he would be questioning John on what had happened and why he had reacted so strongly that Sherlock had been able to feel it.

Stepping under the spray of the water, John closed his eyes and ruffled his hair to get it thoroughly wet. He needed to have his fur washed today, and had planned on asking Sherlock to do it for him, but would this bump be visible in his wolf form as well? Without realising, John’s hands went down to his belly and cupped the bump. There was another nudge against his hand, and John startled, looking down then sighing, a small smile twitching his lips upwards.

Well, at least this explained his mood swings, cravings and increased appetite as well as tiredness. He had a pup. A small, tiny life form was growing inside of him. A being that was half himself, and half Sherlock. Perfect.

Now that the shock was wearing off, John reached for the soap as he thought everything over. He didn’t know how this was possible, but the more that he thought about it, the more he warmed to the idea. Of course, he had no idea how Sherlock would react, but he hoped Sherlock would accept this.

John soaped himself up and then rinsed off, washing his hair quickly and then heading out of the shower. As he dried off with a fluffy towel, John observed himself in the mirror. His hair was getting fluffy, and he needed to get it cut – another thing to take up with Sherlock.

Turning sideways, John noticed that his belly was rather heavy, and it took both of his hands to cup it fully. The sound of the door downstairs opening and closing and the familiar sound of Sherlock’s footsteps running up the stairs had John panicking and he flung the towel off of him and dived for the bedroom to hopefully try and get dressed before Sherlock could see his naked body in the light of day, and then realised he wouldn’t make it in time and transformed into his wolf form.

Sitting down in the bedroom feeling embarrassed, it was only a moment later before Sherlock burst into the room. His eyes fell on John and John saw the confused frown on his face.

 _Afternoon,_ John greeted, trying to sound casual, and wagged his tail as he stood up and walked forward, nuzzling Sherlock.

“Why did you freak out earlier?” Sherlock questioned, hands coming down and carding through the thick fur on John’s scruff, “What happened?”

 _I just slipped on some water in the bathroom and scared myself,_ John lied.

Sherlock’s hands tightened in his fur. “You’re lying,” Sherlock said, and he sounded surprised.

John had never lied to Sherlock before, and whilst he didn’t want to keep this from Sherlock, first he had to do some research and find out how this was possible, and he wasn’t sure what Sherlock’s reaction would be. After all, human males couldn’t get pregnant.

John glanced up at Sherlock before licking his hand. _It’s nothing, Sherlock. Please, drop it_ , John pleaded mentally.

Sherlock growled in warning. “You’re not allowed to keep secrets from me, John,” Sherlock snarled lowly, grip tightening on John’s fur until it was painful and caused John to wince, “Don’t you remember what happened last time you did?”

John froze, shuddering as he remembered the three dreadful years of being separated from Sherlock, and he whined. Sherlock knelt down in front of him and took a firm grip of John’s chin, forcing his head up to meet Sherlock’s stern gaze.

“Tell me what you’re hiding, John. Now,” Sherlock commanded.

John wavered a moment, but as Sherlock’s hold on his chin tightened slightly, he blurted out mentally, _I’m pregnant!_

Sherlock stilled, shock clear on his face. “What?” Sherlock asked, blinking rapidly.

John transformed back into his human form, grabbed Sherlock’s hand and pressed it to his belly and repeated softly, “I’m pregnant, Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s gaze left his slowly, and travelled down his body to rest on the smooth, round bump of his belly. “Pregnant,” Sherlock echoed slowly, bending down and pressing his head to John’s baby bump, only to jerk away as their pup kicked at Sherlock’s ear.

A grin formed on Sherlock’s face, and John felt a wave of relief wash over him, and he grinned down at Sherlock in return.

“John, you’re pregnant,” Sherlock breathed, looking up at him, eyes sparkling, “With _my_ child.”

“ _Our_ child,” John corrected softly.

“Our child,” Sherlock agreed, straightening and bringing John in to a heated kiss.

After a while, Sherlock pulled away, and asked, “How is this possible, John?”

“I don’t know,” John admitted, pressing kisses along Sherlock’s jaw and pressing his belly more into Sherlock’s palm.

“How long have you known?” Sherlock asked, his other hand coming down and cupping the bump with both hands, tilting his head to the side slightly to encourage John’s soft kisses.

“Today,” John admitted, trailing kisses up Sherlock’s jaw to his cheek, then traced Sherlock’s cheekbones with kisses, “That’s why I got so scared. Though, it does explain some things. Change of appetite, mood swings, cravings, tiredness.”

Sherlock hummed, turning his head and kissed John sweetly, causing John to melt into his mate’s body and lips. “I’ll take care of you, John, just like I always do,” Sherlock promised him, then lowered his head and kissed John’s round belly, “And you, little one, I’ll take care of you, too.”

John filled with warmth, and he threw himself at Sherlock, knocking Sherlock to the ground, and buried his face in Sherlock’s neck, sniffling slightly to try and keep back the tears of happiness. Whilst they’d both only found out today, it meant so much to him that Sherlock was so willing to accept their pup.

*.*.*.

They did some research, and they found out that a normal wolf’s research was sixty-three days in length. Which only left them with roughly three weeks before John gave birth. Sherlock grew more protective, and John started nesting, hiding himself away in the bedroom as his belly grew bigger, and built a nest in their bed. He scrunched up their sheets into a rough circle, then placed some of their clothing in and around the sheets, and placed some pillows in their before pulling the covers on top and scattering more clothing and pillows on top. It smelt strongly of the both of them, and John spent a lot of time on and in the nest.

Sherlock was very accommodating to John’s mood swings and cravings, but didn’t let John eat things that were extremely unhealthy, and made sure that John was healthy. Sherlock took online courses on home-birth, as they couldn’t go to a hospital.

Sherlock turned away case after case to stay with John, as John’s belly was now so big that it was fairly obvious that he was pregnant. They basically locked themselves in the flat, except for Sherlock’s trips to and from the shops to get things for John.

They bought nursery things, and set up a cot in their bedroom, and turned the upstairs bedroom into a nursery, sure that Mrs Hudson wouldn’t mind. They bought a whole bunch of baby things, though it was mostly Sherlock at the shops sending pictures to John, who would either agree or disagree.

At day 65, John gave birth. It was the middle of the night, and John was alone in the nest, and he could hear Sherlock rustling around in the kitchen. He gasped awake, hands clutching his large belly as pain rocketed through him. “Sherlock!” John cried out, shoving the covers off of him, and kicking them to the end of the bed, “Sherlock!” John cried again, whining in pain.

Sherlock was by his side in seconds, removing John’s hands from his bare belly (he’d stopped wearing clothes a few days ago), and then Sherlock’s large hands were smoothing down his sides and over his baby bump, then lower, turning John onto his side and sniffing at his hole. “Shift, John,” Sherlock commanded after a moment, “It’ll be easier.”

John obeyed without hesitation, transforming into his wolf form and panting, eyes squeezed closed. Sherlock moved to his rear, lifting his tail out of the way and soothing John through his contractions.

Thankfully, it seemed that he’d slept through most of his contractions, and it was only a few hours later before a pup slid from him and into Sherlock’s waiting grasp. It seemed that his baby had shifted forms with him, and he was relieved. John twisted and watched. Sherlock seemed to be in awe of their pup, cradling her in his large palms and looked like he was on the verge of crying. Sherlock met his gaze and handed their pup up to John. John gently grasped her by the scruff and guided her to his belly to suckle as he started cleaning her.

He was surprised when another contraction hit him, and he whined lowly.

“There’s another one coming, John,” Sherlock said, surprised.

Three hours later, and three more pups had come into the world, two girls and a boy. In total, they had three girls and one little boy. John licked them all clean, and after the after-birth had come out of him, John relaxed into the bed, exhausted.

“They’re gorgeous, John,” Sherlock whispered in awe, transforming into his wolf from and curling around John and the pups.

 _They are,_ John agreed, tired but proud.

 _I love you, John_ , Sherlock whispered in his mind, then nuzzled John and all of their pups, _And all of our beautiful pups._

John purred in content, tail thumping against the bed and he closed his eyes to go to sleep.

*.*.*.

John and Sherlock made up a story about adopting the kids, though Mycroft seemed incredibly suspicious when he came to see them, but was too scared to say anything different with both John and Sherlock glaring at him.

They loved their little puppies, and treated them well, giving them all that they could. They stayed in Baker Street even after their pups moved out. They lived a long and happy life together.


End file.
